


Service

by sayyesregent



Series: The Regent Verse [2]
Category: Into the Badlands (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Cunnilingus, F/F, Feelings, Fingerfucking, Incest, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pseudo-Incest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayyesregent/pseuds/sayyesregent
Summary: Even the importance of a strategy meeting with Waldo can't overcome thoughts of Tilda.  As Waldo's words slowly fade from her concern, the Widow instead focuses her energy on reliving every moment of the night she spent with her daughter.





	Service

Waldo’s voice is a buzzing in her ears and despite her best efforts, the Widow is unable to focus on what are, no doubt, important words leaving his mouth.  There is a map spread out between them and she can see his hands gesturing to this position and that.  Part of her knows she needs to concentrate and she leans closer, hoping her body language will buy her a few more moments to shake the fog from her brain.  The sound of leather creaking behind her makes the Widow cross her legs a little harder and she meets Waldo’s keen look with a small nod, indicating he should continue.

The sound of Tilda moving behind her chair pulls at the thoughts in the Widow’s brain once more.  As Waldo starts in on the topography of a particular stronghold, the Widow shifts in her seat until she can see Tilda out of the corner of her eye – or, more accurately, she can see the leather-clad hand Tilda has curved over the back of her chair.  Resting her head back slowly until she can feel Tilda’s other hand pressed lightly against the back of her head, the Widow finally tunes Waldo out completely.  She trusts that Tilda will pay attention and, releasing the reins on her thoughts, the Widow thinks about her night with Tilda.

 

* * *

 

_“Mother…”_

The feel of Tilda’s mouth as she says the word actually makes the Widow’s knees feel weak but Tilda’s gloved hands are there against her lower back, thumbs sliding around to hold her hips.  She feels, more than hears, Tilda say the word again and she curves her fingers around the back of Tilda’s head, tipping  it back so she can look at her.

Tilda’s fingers are trembling and the Widow feels her chest ache suddenly, knowing that what Tilda is asking to do isn’t something that she’s ever done before.  With other things, not knowing hasn’t stopped Tilda from throwing herself headfirst into whatever task she set her mind to, but this?  This is different.  They’ve already crossed a line, but what Tilda is asking to do, what the Widow wants to let her do, would destroy it.

“Stand up.”

Holding her hands out to help Tilda rise, she pulls her into a hug, trying and almost successfully hiding the shiver that comes from holding Tilda against her naked body.  She blocks out the view of her bed from the corner of her eye and turns her head to press her lips against Tilda’s temple.  “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Tilda’s voice sounds sure, even if her body is still trembling lightly.  Rubbing her cheek against the Widow’s, Tilda’s voice sounds seemingly older than her actual age. “I know what I’m doing.”

The Widow pulls back at that and looks at Tilda, ducking down as Tilda averts her gaze.  “Do you now?”

There’s a heavy moment as their eyes meet and hold.  Tilda’s past with the Widow’s husband sits between them and the Widow can’t help but soften her gaze.  Cupping Tilda’s cheek in her palm, she uses her other hand to indicate their bodies and runs her thumb gently under Tilda’s bottom lip.  “Between women?”

Tilda shuffles her feet and lifts one shoulder in a small shrug.  “The girls talk sometimes.”

Filing away that information for later, the Widow brushes the backs of her fingers against Tilda’s warm cheeks.  “Tilda, hearing about something and actually doing it aren’t the same thing.”

“I _know_ that.  I’m not a child, Mother.”

Tilda’s words chafe against the Widow’s mind, what she wants from Tilda and what that all means makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck.  It also makes her hyper aware that she’s still naked in front of Tilda.  Naked, in front of her daughter.  Doubt and shame settle heavily inside of her and she’s already stepping back to grab her robe when Tilda’s hands slide up to hold her ribs and stop her in her tracks.

It’s as if Tilda knows that what she said affected the Widow and suddenly her face doesn’t have the same uncertain look as it did a moment ago.  Moving forward, she guides the Widow towards her bed, stepping over the robe without another thought.

The Widow’s heart starts to pound again at the look on Tilda’s face, those blue eyes flickering between the Widow’s eyes and her mouth with an intensity she only sees when Tilda is fighting.  As the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she sits, Tilda kneels before her once more.  The Widow’s hands drop to her lap and stay there as Tilda finally speaks.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about this.”

The boldness of Tilda’s words shocks the Widow and allows Tilda to bring her hands to the Widow’s thighs, spreading them slowly as she moves even closer.

“Because I have.  Every time the girls talked about sex, it was you that I pictured.  And I didn’t understand why at first.  I don’t think I _wanted_ to understand why.  But at night…”

Tilda trails off and puts her hands on the mattress, supporting her weight as she runs her bottom lip across the Widow’s mouth.  Her voice is barely a whisper as she continues speaking and the Widow can’t help the moan that passes from her open mouth to Tilda’s.

“At night when I touched myself, I started imagining that it was you.  I’d close my eyes and make it so that it was your fingers between my legs.  I’d picture the way you’d sound when you felt how wet I was for you.  And the girls would tell their stories the next day and they’d look at me with pity because I couldn’t contribute.  But what could I tell them?  That I fucked myself and thought about you?  My mother?  That I came thinking about what you taste like?”

“ _Tilda_ …”

The moan that follows saying her name is swallowed as Tilda closes the distance between them and fully kisses the Widow.  Tilda’s mouth is open and slanted against hers and the first touch of her tongue finally pulls the Widow from her passive participation.  Holding Tilda’s face with both hands, she ravages her mouth, sliding her tongue against her daughter’s in a way that has the Widow’s hips rocking forward just to get closer.  The soft sounds Tilda makes as the Widow changes the angle of the kiss, using her teeth against Tilda’s lips, has the Widow reaching for Tilda’s hands.  She suddenly feels desperate to feel Tilda’s hands on her and she sucks on Tilda’s bottom lip a little harder than she intended as the gloves don’t move.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, the Widow rests her forehead against Tilda’s forehead, struggling for a moment to pull her leather gloves off.  The Widow’s fingers feel clumsy as she tries to yank at the tight fabric and her relief is palpable as Tilda takes over, easily pulling her gloves off and dropping them to the floor.  Capturing Tilda’s hands once more, the Widow brings them to her breasts and resumes kissing her daughter.  She feels Tilda’s moan in their kiss as Tilda runs her fingertips over the Widow’s hard nipples and she wonders if this is Tilda’s first time touching another woman’s breasts.  But then Tilda’s thumb flicks against them before her fingers start to tug in a way that makes the Widow wonder exactly what her Butterflies do in their chambers at night.

All thoughts about her Butterflies soon flee her mind as Tilda ends the kiss and trails her open mouth across the Widow’s chest, closing warm and soft over the Widow’s nipple.  Instinct has her holding onto the back of Tilda’s head and, as Tilda opens her mouth wider, the Widow can’t control the way her hips arch into the bed.  Tilda is alternating between sucking and flicking her tongue in the same rhythm that she’s tugging the Widow’s other nipple with her fingers and the Widow thinks she could come from this alone.

She can smell her own arousal as instinct has her spreading her thighs when Tilda switches her mouth to the Widow’s other breast and when Tilda’s eyes flutter closed a moment later, the Widow knows that Tilda can smell her as well.  Until that moment, Tilda’s other hand had been resting lightly on the Widow’s thigh but as Tilda sits back on her heels, both hands drop down to grip the Widow’s thighs and push them even wider.

Tilda’s face is flushed and the hair around her face is damp as the body heat under her Regent’s leathers stays trapped.  Her parted mouth is swollen and her eyes remain half-closed as she glances down to the Widow’s stomach, her fingers flexing once before trailing slowly closer to the Widow’s wetness.

The Widow feels the trembling hesitation in Tilda’s movements and struggles to push her desire aside, even if only for a moment, as she moves closer to Tilda and gently grabs her hands.  When Tilda’s eyes meet hers, the Widow brings one of Tilda’s hands to her mouth and gently kisses her palm, her voice soft and understanding.  “ _Tilda_.”

“Don’t.  I told you that…”

“That the girls talk, yes.  But did they go into detail?  Tell each other what their chosen Cog or Butterfly did to them?”

Tilda shifts self-consciously under the Widow’s gaze and the Widow holds her hands tighter, sensing that Tilda wants to pull away.  Tilda’s eyes still haven’t dropped lower than the Widow’s stomach, despite all her bold moves so far, and the Widow feels a new rush of arousal at being able to share this new experience with her daughter.  Kissing Tilda’s palm once more, she holds Tilda’s hand against her mouth as she brings her other hand down to rest against her thigh.

“There’s no embarrassment to be had here, you know.  That you came to me tonight, the way that you did, in a way that I’ve been scared to do, speaks volumes.”

That last part gets Tilda’s attention and her eyes widen, understanding the deeper admission between the words.  She opens her mouth to speak but loses her breath when the Widow’s full lips part, her tongue tracing a slow line across Tilda’s hand.  The Widow’s teeth graze across the tips of Tilda’s fingers and her voice is decidedly lower as she speaks again.

“I’m going to show you how to touch me.  Another lesson from me to you.  As I know what a good student you are, I know that you will please me.”

The smirk that follows her words is tempered by the shuddering breath she exhales as the hand on her thigh grips tighter, Tilda’s soft moan sounding out between them.  Pursing her lips, she kisses the fingertips held in her grasp, her thumb sweeping soothingly over Tilda’s palm as something inside of her dictates that she try to give them one last out.

“I want this.  I want _you_.  Even knowing that I shouldn’t, I want you.  But we can stop right now.  It will take some work to move past this but we can pretend…”

“No, Mother.” 

Tilda’s fingers slide even closer and her eyes finally glance down, her tongue coming out to wet her lips as she looks between the Widow’s thighs.  When she looks back up, the passion in Tilda’s eyes tightens everything inside the Widow.  Tilda’s voice holds a tone that scrapes along the Widow’s spine and she shivers as Tilda practically begs.  “Show me.”

Heat flushes through the Widow’s body as she shifts her grasp on Tilda’s hand, holding it so that Tilda’s index and middle fingers are together.  Wasting no more time, she keeps her eyes on Tilda’s face and pushes all the guilt and shame aside as she answers Tilda’s request.

“This is what I like.  Use your mouth like this on me.”

Parting her lips, the Widow slides Tilda’s fingers into her mouth and keeps her tongue soft, absorbing Tilda’s gasp with her body as goosebumps break out along her skin.  She pushes and pulls Tilda’s fingers against her tongue, curling the tip and letting it stroke over and around Tilda’s fingertips before closing her mouth and sucking gently.  The groan that bursts from Tilda’s chest is no match for the one the Widow echoes as Tilda’s other hand finds its way between the Widow’s legs.

The sure pressure of them catches the Widow off-guard but her hips react on instinct, tipping forward as Tilda runs her fingers through the Widow’s wetness.  As the Widow continues to suck Tilda’s fingers and stroke her tongue across them, she realizes that Tilda has started touching her in those same motions.  Her teeth catch on Tilda’s fingertips as she feels Tilda tease her entrance, the wet noises prompting the Widow to pull Tilda’s fingers from her mouth with another groan.  With both hands reaching forward, the Widow brings Tilda closer for a kiss, their tongues meeting without hesitation.  Tilda’s mouth is so warm and the Widow moans deeply imagining it where Tilda’s fingers are currently driving her to distraction.  Licking into Tilda’s mouth, the Widow reaches down and pushes two of Tilda’s fingers inside of her, two long strokes, before gripping her wrist and bringing her hand up.

Breaking the kiss somewhat reluctantly, the Widow holds Tilda’s wet fingers in front of her mouth and watches Tilda glance over them before looking back at her.  The Widow never looks away as she licks her own wetness from Tilda’s fingers, her lower belly clenching hard at the way Tilda’s lips purse in reflex.  It’s Tilda who kisses her this time, her tongue bold and hungry as it chases the Widow’s wetness from her mouth.  The kiss lasts for one hot moment before Tilda is pulling back, both hands on the Widow’s chest as she pushes her back to recline on the bed.

Without another word, Tilda’s hands push the Widow’s thighs open wide and then her mouth is right _there_ , tongue soft and wet as it strokes between the Widow’s legs.  Hands gripping at the bed covers, the Widow rests her weight on her elbows so she can watch Tilda, the leather of Tilda’s outfit scraping pleasantly along her skin as Tilda adjusts her grip.  Arms curling under the Widow’s thighs, Tilda’s eagerness threatens to make the Widow let go embarrassingly early.  The contrast of her skin against the darkness of the Regent leathers has the Widow reaching one hand down to brush her fingertips across Tilda’s cheek.

“You are so beautiful like this, Tilda.”

The vibrations from Tilda’s moan has the Widow tilting her hips up, her hand sliding around to pull Tilda’s head up a little higher.  Her body jerks as Tilda’s tongue finds her clit and she can feel Tilda smile against her before she repeats the motion.  All the times the Widow imagined this pale in comparison to the reality of having Tilda’s lips and tongue between her legs, her wetness spreading to her inner thighs, transferred there from the corners of Tilda’s mouth.  Dropping back to the bed, the Widow rakes her fingers through Tilda’s dark hair and holds her there, the fluttering in her belly betraying her desire to make this first time last just a little longer.  She rests her heels against Tilda’s back, opening herself up further as she looks across her body to meet Tilda’s intense stare.

The backdrop of her bedroom adds to the tingling in her stomach as her brain trickles thoughts down into her consciousness about how this shouldn’t be something they both want.  But then Tilda’s tongue finds the rhythm of the Widow’s hips, some kind of instinct guiding her to suck on the Widow’s clit and her eyes slam shut.  She can feel Tilda moaning against her but all she can hear are her own desperate sounds as her body starts to shake, her hands falling to the bed to grip the covers once more.

She wants to tell Tilda that she’s coming.  She wants to connect Tilda’s actions with the reaction in her body, but her stomach constricts so hard that all she can do is groan and trap her bottom lip between her teeth.  Her hips are wild against Tilda’s mouth so Tilda shifts her grip, surprisingly strong hands holding tight to the Widow’s waist as Tilda’s tongue continues to move.  Reaching out, the Widow gently presses against Tilda’s forehead as her orgasm finally subsides, her insides pulsing with each kittenish lick Tilda teasingly keeps giving her until she gives up and just grabs Tilda’s leathers.

The Widow pulls forcefully until Tilda is sprawled across her body.  With a soft smile, she kisses her, cleaning her wetness from Tilda’s mouth and chin before rolling them over.  As her hands move to start undressing Tilda, she’s pulled from the kiss by Tilda’s hands on hers stopping her progress.

Breathless, she searches Tilda’s face, running her thumb lovingly across Tilda’s cheek.  “What is it?”

She can feel the soft undulations of Tilda’s hips against her, the warmth between Tilda’s legs where it presses against the Widow making her ache with the need to undress Tilda and touch her.  Resting her weight on her elbow, she arches into the long stroke of Tilda’s hand down her back, accepting Tilda’s soft kiss and meeting her eyes as she speaks.

“Tonight was just about you, Mother.  I wanted to make you feel good.  I…wanted to serve you.”

The Widow’s mind stumbles over that word. _Serve_.  Her expression must reflect her thoughts because Tilda is quick to lean up and draw the Widow into a slow kiss, a loving kiss, and the Widow feels the ache for Tilda bloom even warmer under her skin.  Tilda runs her hand across the Widow’s back once more as she shifts her body even closer.

“Not just that.  I love you.  _I love you_.”

Surging forward, the Widow takes Tilda’s mouth in another kiss, love and lust and affection passing between them in equal measure before the Widow pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against Tilda’s.

“I love _you_ , my Regent.  My Tilda.”

They rest that way for a few moments before the Widow runs her cheek against Tilda’s temple, placing a kiss there before pressing up to put her palm on the bed, her other hand resting lightly on Tilda’s ribs.  The love she feels for the girl beneath her hand feels overwhelming now and a small part of her feels needy in a way that slips out before she can stop it.

“Will you stay with me tonight, at least?”

The smile on Tilda’s face chases the vulnerability from the Widow’s feelings and she can’t help but return the smile, sighing lightly as Tilda sits up to press a kiss to the Widow’s cheek.

“I want to.  I really want to, but I have training at first light.  The girls assemble by my chambers and it would be hard to explain arriving to my room when I should be exiting it.”

The Widow knows that Tilda is right and it’s only the regret she can hear in Tilda’s voice that keeps the sharp pang of disappointment at bay.  Nodding once, the Widow moves off the bed, holding her hands out to pull Tilda to stand before her.  The wetness between her legs is readily apparent and she notices Tilda glancing down, a blush racing over her cheeks before she meets the Widow’s gaze.

Hugging Tilda, the Widow holds her for a long moment, closing her eyes at the way Tilda’s arms feel wrapped around her back.  She won’t send Tilda back without one more thing and she curls her lips in a slight smirk as she leans back and pulls down the edge of Tilda’s collar.

“Before you go, something to remember me by then since I can’t be there when you wake.”

Easing forward, the Widow scrapes her teeth along the soft skin of Tilda’s neck, enjoying the rush she feels as Tilda arches forward with a soft moan.  Yanking just a little harder on the fabric until she can get to the top of Tilda’s collarbone, the Widow bites at the skin there.  Her other hand slides across Tilda’s back to palm the curve of her ass, keeping Tilda’s hips pressed tight to her as she opens her mouth and sucks hard against Tilda’s skin.  Marking her.  Claiming her.  The timbre of Tilda’s moan changes as the Widow licks against the mark, soothing the inflamed skin, and the Widow knows that she will do all she can to recreate that sound the next time she and Tilda can be alone together.

Easing Tilda’s collar back up, the Widow kisses Tilda’s bottom lip softly before stepping away from her completely.  Gesturing toward the door, she smiles softly at Tilda and inclines her head.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tilda.”

Tilda waits one more moment before she lifts her hand and presses it against the Widow’s chest, right above her heart, her thumb sweeping across the Widow’s skin once before she goes to leave.  Pausing at the door, she sweeps her eyes over the Widow’s body and returns her smile, her blue eyes bright in the lamplight by the door.

“Goodnight, Mother.”

 

* * *

 

The subtle pressure against her head brings the Widow out of her daydream and it takes her a few seconds to focus on Waldo’s face, his features pinched with annoyance.  Clenching her jaw as she sits up straight, the Widow exhales slowly at the wetness she can readily feel between her legs.  Before she can think of something to say, Tilda’s voice fills the silence.

“Doubling the patrols for the time being sounds like it’s exactly what’s needed.  Right, Mother?”

She manages a nod and notes that Waldo clearly knows that she wasn’t paying attention.  Forcing herself to keep his stare, she’s relieved to see him recognize his place and choose not to comment on her distraction.

“Fine.  I’ll see it implemented.  We have a new batch of runaway Cogs to assess in a half hour.  I hope you’ll at least give _them_ your full attention.”

Tilda’s hand on her shoulder stays any response the Widow feels building at the parting dig Waldo tosses in her direction.  Waiting until he exits the room, she goes to speak but instead finds Tilda leaning over the back of her chair, one hand cupping the back of her neck.  She has a moment to appreciate the blue of Tilda’s eyes before her mouth is caught in a kiss that makes her body ache instantly. 

The angle isn’t ideal, and she has to keep her hands on the arms of the chair just to keep her body turned enough, but the way Tilda is kissing her banishes every other thought from the room.  Her mouth is so warm and the Widow feels an answering tug between her legs as Tilda sucks softly on her tongue.  She feels an embarrassing moan building from deep in her chest and it snaps something inside of her, her hands leaving the chair to grip the fabric of Tilda’s shirt.  Pulling her closer, the Widow takes Tilda’s mouth, all teeth and tongue until _finally_ …a moan.  Not hers.  But _Tilda’s_.  The sound of it makes the Widow feel like she could come right there and she tells herself that she’ll take this energy with her to meet with the Cogs.  Instead of using it for what she really wants to do.  Which is to put Tilda on her back right there on the desk and finally able to sate the one need the Widow was denied last night.

The kiss ends and, pushing Tilda back slightly, the Widow stands up.  Sweeping her eyes across the room to make sure they are still alone, she quickly walks around the chair, enjoying the way Tilda backs up a step.

Her lips feel swollen from their kiss as she crooks her finger at Tilda.  “Come here.”

Indulging them both, she pulls Tilda into a hug.  An affectionate gesture to anyone that would walk by but the Widow can feel Tilda’s heart racing against her chest as she brings her lips to Tilda’s ear.  “My good girl.  Thank you for paying attention to Waldo before.  Would you like a reward for your diligence?”

“Whatever you wish, Mother.”

The Widow’s hands flex against Tilda’s back and her next words are delivered with her eyes closed, Tilda’s hair brushing against her lips with each word.  “What I wish, my Regent, is to not be denied the pleasure of your body as I was last night.”

“Last night was…”

“For me, I know.  But do you know what else is for me?”

“No.”

“ _You_.”

Stepping back, the Widow brushes her fingers across Tilda’s blushing cheek, trailing lightly down her neck.  She stops and puts the slightest pressure to the mark she knows is under Tilda’s collar, pausing there for a moment before moving on to brush across Tilda’s breasts before breaking contact entirely. 

The mixture of love and lust blooming in Tilda’s eyes spreads to her voice as she dips her head in acknowledgment.  “Yes, Mother.”

“You are to report to my chambers after the evening patrol.  Don’t be late.”

Taking the image of Tilda’s blushing face with her, the Widow leaves her standing there and heads out of the room.  She pauses before she exits the atrium and it feels like a fog lifting from her brain as her mind catches up to watch just happened.  Carelessly, they’d kissed, right there in the open where anyone might have seen them.  Her Regent. _Her daughter_. The shame of it twists in her belly but it’s not enough to stop.  The shame of what they’ve done and what she wants to do is still not enough to temper the desire and love that feels like a second heartbeat in her body now that the Widow knows what Tilda’s kisses taste like when she is all over them.

The sound of heavy footfalls and Waldo’s voice chase her from her spot by the door and she tries to push her thoughts about Tilda away as she prepares to greet the new Cogs.  As if conjured by the Widow’s thoughts, Tilda passes by just then, their eyes meeting for one electric moment before Tilda disappears through an archway, two Butterflies following in her wake.

Giving in just a little, the Widow channels the energy into her body as she strides over to Waldo.  Shoulders pulled back straight, the wetness between her legs feels like a dirty secret and her lips curve into the kind of smile that has a few of the Cogs standing just a little bit taller.

“If you’ve come here seeking sanctuary, you are welcome.  If you’ve come here to undermine myself, my Butterflies, or my oil fields, your time here will come to an abrupt end.  Let me explain to you why…”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I tagged this as incest/implied incest because while the Widow and Tilda's mother/daughter relationship is not a blood one, they do consider each other mother and daughter. It is also how they are officially defined on the show.


End file.
